Dreams, Seams and Coffee Beans
by CafeAime
Summary: Assorted Drabbles from our favourite team's POVs. Mainly Janto.
1. Dreams

**Stimulus: **Dream

**Spoilers: **Children Of Earth (how evil was that?! I cried so much!)

**POV: **Jack

**Dedication: **To Gareth David-Lloyd. (In love with this man… there was NOT enough Ianto until COE, and then what do they do? Kill him off. Talk about unfair!)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. We all know that if I did I'd do a hell of a lot better than RTD and his gang of little murderers… and yet we love him so much. Sucks, right?

**AN: **This one… I tried to make it like it seemed in my head, but I don't think it succeeded. (It's probably for the best. If anyone ever gets a glimpse into the inner workings of Me, I'll have a lot of therapist bills to fork out for) Think… that scene in Ugly Betty, the one after Betty's sister's boyfriend died (I'm so crap with names).

-x-

It was one of those things that could have been a dream. The creature in the glass tank – strange, how something they had trapped so easily could have had so much control – just a blurry nightmare, now. The man dying in his arms an echo of what could have been. What would have been.

"I love you, Jack," he whispers. It is cruel how the first time should be their last… like a game that they were losing, the tables had turned on their affair and transformed it into… Jack didn't even know. He did know, though, that he would refuse to play. Not by someone else's rules.

"Don't. No. Stay with me," he sobs.

"Jack!"

That isn't part of the dream.

"_Jack_!"

How dare this person interrupt their final moment?

"Jack. Wake _up_."

No, he wants to say. Give me a moment… I have to say goodbye…

Then he's gasping because the dream has fallen away as soon as it had come, leaving nothing but the half formed scars that Jack can't understand yet. All that is left is the dark… and warmth. Warm hands on his face… _warmcoffeesoftgentledream_ hands.

"Ianto?"

"I'm here."

He smiles, then, like he's never smiled before. Ianto. Just a dream. "Can you turn a light on? It's so dark in here."

As soon as he says it, it's as if the darkness never existed. He can't identify a source, but the light is so bright it's almost… heavenly. Ianto is sat smiling by his side.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Ianto shifts uncomfortably, then, moving away. Jack frowns and grasps at his waist. "Not yet."

Ianto frowns. "Jack…"

"I know. Just… not yet, ok?"

What? What does he know? It's buried deep underneath the rubble of old lives, long gone. He can't quite recall…

"You have to go."

There it is. The rubble has shifted slightly and there he can see a remnant of what he used to be. What he still is. He has to go. He can feel something pulling at him through the darkness – dragging him away. He fights it even now. Work can wait.

"I'm not leaving you, Ianto." He points to his head and pouts. "You see this grey hair? This little hair is called 'Ianto almost died'."

Ianto's eyes are filled with sudden tears – tears that most of Jack can't understand, but the rest of him doesn't want to. "Hey…"

"I love you."

The sudden announcement is not as shocking as the recognition that follows. He's heard that from these lips once before. It had been a bad dream, but a dream all the same.

Wasn't it?

Ianto's lips touch his – _hungrysatedhappysad. _If this is a dream, it is a good one. But is it a dream? He grasps at Ianto, and his fingers are reassured with the comforting reality of soft flesh.

"You _have _to go. Work to do."

"_No_."

The word strikes an odd chord against his being. _No. _He won't go. He won't leave. Not again. It scares him to know that he must leave, and it scares him even more to know that he's scared. What is there to be scared of?

"You have to go, Jack."

"Fine, fine…" he grumbles. Ianto smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. Jack pauses. "You know I love you, right?"

"Right." Ianto smiles again. Real smiles this time. Jack grins, sated, and turns away to get dressed. "Jack…" Ianto pauses, and when he speaks the words are choked and it's like all the love he has for Jack is trying to climb out of his mouth all at once, forming a lump in his constricting throat. "I'll miss you."

The words stick in his throat – he wants to cry out _where are you going? _Or maybe _goodbye _or maybe just _I love you_ but then it all falls apart yet again.

Air – too cold, too warm – races into Jack's lungs like… he doesn't know. Like something, anyway. It feels, for a moment, like being dragged across a bed of nails. And the worst part is that when the nails have gone the pain is still there, located somewhere to his left.

He gasps because the dream has fallen away too soon, leaving behind scars that will never go away.


	2. Seams

**Stimulus: **Seams

**Spoilers: **Well it has to be post-Journey's End (Doctor Who).

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **To RTD once again, for giving Donna the best possible exit :) (even if I did cry my eyes out)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Sometimes I think… if I did… how great would that be? And then I look at all the disappointed fangirls waiting to rip out RTD's throat and I think… not great at all. I think I'll just stick to bitching about him :)

**AN: **Not sure if this makes sense… took me several tries to get this far. I tried elaborating, but it just seemed wrong.

-x-

Ianto had always wondered why Jack had a thing for suits.

He'd thought he would wonder forever; Jack, being Jack, wasn't the type to indulge his secrets so easily. He'd asked a few times but the one liners shot back at him weren't even worth the breath. This, he reasoned, was just another one of those things.

But then he'd seen him.

_The Doctor._

Ianto had taken a knife to Jack's favourite suit that night, hacking and ripping and tearing until nothing was left but rags. Then he'd sat there amongst the ruined fabric of his life and tried to forget that it wasn't just the suit that had come apart at the seams.


	3. Coffee Beans

**Stimulus: **Coffee Beans

**Spoilers: **

**POV: **Tosh (poor woman)

**Dedication: **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Not for lack of trying, believe me!

**AN:**

-x-

_Crunch._

Tosh looked down with a frown.

In Torchwood, the unusual was usual. She barely batted an eyelid at blowfish driving sports cars or women with alien technology inserted into their arms. That was fine. Just part of the job.

What she couldn't understand, though, was why on earth there were coffee beans all over the Hub floor?

"_Fuck_…"

She drew her gun without hesitating. Someone – something – had gotten into Jack's office.

The stairs - the stairs that she hadn't really noticed until now - were too long, too noisy. She tried to be silent as she climbed them, heart pounding in her chest. Her heart seemed to grow too loud - every whimper, every cry tortured her. What were they _doing _to him? Anger pulsed through her. She would kill them - whoever they were - if they had laid so much as a _finger _on Jack.

"Freeze!" she yelled as she burst through the office door... to find that it was Ianto who was being tortured, and he'd laid a lot more than just a finger on her boss.

Jack's laughter echoed behind her as she fled from the scene with all the dignity that she could manage. Aliens? Fine. _That_, however, was a step too far.


	4. Trail Of Blood

**Stimulus: **Blood

**Spoilers: **S2E13

**POV: **Jack

**Dedication: **The mop in the cupboard under the stairs, which I have a lot of issues with.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. The episode on which this is based is strong indication that I probably should for the good of all that is Tosh/Owen. (thank you to )

**AN: **I'm not normally one for griping, but this is quite unfair. I provided y'all with three chapters (which a LOT of people read, judging by the hit count) and what do I get? Not a SINGLE review! PLEASE! I would love you more than anything... :')

-x-

Blood. Just a trail of blood down the autopsy room steps… that was all that was left of Tosh, now. And as for Owen? There was _nothing _left of the doctor, now. Just a box of medical equipment with his name scrawled in a distracted way that had made Jack smile through his tears.

A trail of blood, Jack mused. That was all he left behind him. Who would remember the list of alien invasions he'd helped to prevent when it was compared with the equally hefty list of dead he'd swept away with a bucket of soapy water, trying to ignore the already permanent stains on both the floor and his existence?

Ianto had offered, of course, but Jack had declined as politely as he could. He was really regretting it now. If he'd taken him up on his offer, he wouldn't have been having this fight with this – sodding – _mop_ - !

As he threw it down in defeat and collapsed in a pool of angry tears, Jack had to admit that it wasn't only the mop that he'd been battling against.

"Jack? I left my keys…"

Ianto's voice trailed off as he took in the older man, slouched on the floor with the mop at a reasonable distance. He hurried over to take his face in his hands.

"I _knew _I should have insisted…"

Jack gave a watery chuckle as Ianto sat next to him with a huff. They sat in silence. That was the nice thing about Ianto – you could just sit with him, and he wouldn't be tempted to say things like 'it wasn't your fault' (which, if he was being perfectly honest, left him in no doubt that it usually was).

"I never should have let go of his hand."

"Hey, now," Ianto crooned, rubbing the older man's arm in what he really hoped was a comforting way. "I would have thought you, of all people, would have realised by now that you can't change _time_. You let go of his hand. That was the way it was meant to be."

"But - "

"Shh." He smiled weakly against the top of his head. "Anyway… that day made you who you are, Jack Harkness, and I have to tell you… I wouldn't change you for the world."

Jack smiled, worries finally dimmed. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning up to smile into Ianto's lips. They remained there for a long while, forehead's touching, as they probed one another's eyes. Jack was the one who eventually broke the silence.

"You know, I once had an incident with a toaster."

The younger man frowned. "Really?"

"Best night of my whole damn life."


	5. Blond

**Stimulus: **Blond

**Spoilers: **None – but it's set before the Tosh and Owen died (note to self: murder RTD)

**POV: **Yours?

**Dedication: **Captain-ally - you reviewed, and my ego just inflated a little bit… run for your lives!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. RTD does. (Not for long… *revs chainsaw*)

**AN: **If you're still reading – thank you. REALLY BIG thank-yous to 00torchwood and gernumblies for honouring me with the, um, honour of being on your favourites list, to gernumblies (again), Pheonix-uk and torchwood and doctor who 4eva for putting me on alerts :) It means a lot. You guys made my day :)

And Captain-ally (you didn't think I'd forgotten you, did you?! Fool!) – especially big thanks for allowing me to be your beta, and for reviewing. You are awesome, and we shall be unstoppable :)

**-x-**

"No way. Not a chance." Owen shook his head, arms folded. The vision of fortitude. Tosh cocked her head to one side.

"I have to say… it _is _pretty unlikely."

Owen grinned, holding out his hand. Tosh slapped it with a shy smile.

"You are… so wrong." Gwen shook her head in mock disgust. "I don't think anyone has ever been as wrong as you are now. And that, having worked with you for two years, is saying something."

"Careful," Owen's eyes narrowed. "That there's fightin' talk."

"Care to take it to Google?" Gwen challenged.

"Oh, just you try and stop us."

Tosh blushed at the implied partnership. Regardless of her discomfort, the other pair hurried to stand around Gwen's computer. Several minutes and several search engines later, their hunt was declared fruitless.

"I guess we'll never know," Tosh sighed wistfully, making to pick up the five pound note she'd slapped down on the desk. The other two followed suit as Jack and Ianto entered the office – the latter balancing several steaming coffee cups on a tray.

"What are you guys talking about?" Jack enquired, throwing himself down on a sofa, resting his feet on the table to earn himself a dirty look from Ianto.

Gwen grinned at the others. Jack would know. "We're betting on whether or not Daniel Craig is a natural blond."

Jack frowned. "Um…"

"No." Came the answer from behind them. All turned, mouths open. Ianto, staring at the life-sized picture of the actor's head, shook his head decisively. "No, he's not. Brunette through and through."

Silence.

"Here's your coffee."

-x-

**AN: I wonder how many people will get that, hehe? Well, we'll see… ;)**


	6. Those Three Words

**Stimulus: **Three Words (NOT the song by Cheryl Cole… I hate her, and her awful fashion sense. Don't you think she looks like MJ?!).

**Spoilers: **Series Two

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **Ally :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. If anyone has any ideas as to how I can slip past the bodyguards and the restraining order to rid RTD of this great honour (which he does NOT deserve), please let me know. I'm stumped.

**AN: **You know what? For the first time ever, I have nothing more to say. Enjoy this little piece of Janto fluff!

-x-

Everyone has patterns. Rituals. Routines. Everyone.

Theirs just happened to involve those three little words. Three words that meant a million different things; three words that triggered a thousand different reactions everytime Ianto heard them. To say he loved it would be an understatement. Everyday spent with Jack just seemed to lead up to this moment, and those three _littlebiglovehate _words.

Jack's breath hitches as he nears consiousness, and so does Ianto's – although he's been awake for many hours, waiting. Waiting for the moment and the words that are so close he can almost _touchsmellfeeltaste _them.

Almost…

Ianto smiles as his lover's eyes open blearily. He doesn't speak, and neither does the other. Words other than those three would seem out of place. Wrong. This is the way it goes.

Jack's mouth opens – _softwarmsafe _– and he smiles. Ianto's pulse races. So close…

Here they come.

"Where's my coffee?"


	7. Beret

**Stimulus: **Unspoken apologies

**Spoilers: **S2E06

**POV: **No specific POV

**Dedication: **Whoever invented the beret. I have one – it's burgundy, and I look rather smashing in it ;)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own John Barrowman. Oh, yes – I've got the leash and everything ;) (That man is too sexy for his own good).

**AN: **Running out of inspiration here, people… help?!

-x-

"Ianto."

Ianto didn't look up. He focused his attention on the coffee pot, glaring. Jack scowled at him.

"_Ianto_."

"Busy."

"A watched pot never boils."

Ianto rolled his eyes. Jack took advantage of his silence to advance slightly. Ianto shifted his weight away from the older man, who pouted indignantly.

"I have something for you."

"Unless it's an apology, I don't want it."

Jack sighed dramatically. "Fine. You win. I'll just leave it here…"

Ianto didn't look.

Even when Jack was gone, he didn't look. That would have been admitting that Jack had won. And that would _never _do. Jack was rude, Jack was arrogant, and he deserved this.

Despite Jack's warnings, the coffee pot _did _boil, and Ianto busied himself in a flurry of coffee beans and steam until he had long forgotten about the thing on top of the table to his left when he made the mistake of turning, tray in hand…

There, sitting on the counter, was a red beret bearing the phrase 'UNIT'. Coffee and milk crashed to the floor.

Well, a small part of Ianto offered as he sprinted up the stairs to the office of a smirking American captain who definitely looked a little too smug, we can't win _all _the time.


	8. Welcome

**Stimulus: **Welcome

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **No specific POV

**Dedication: **Gernumblies, who saved my butt with 'Random Word Generator'. Thank you honey ;)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Some day, fangirls WILL rule the world. Keep the dream alive!

**AN: **Thank you for reviewing/reading, folks :) You don't know what it means!

-x-

"Welcome."

_Welcome_.

Such a normal, everyday word… how was it that it seemed so bizarre, now?

And that was it. Just… _welcome._

That was all he said. When, one by one, they walked through that door and saw the Weevils and the lift and the stuff that came from _beyond the stars…_

_Welcome._

He loved the drama – that was what Owen reckoned. Love to watch as your world falls from underneath you and you're left standing in the newly opened abyss that is Torchwood.

No, Tosh said – it was because he was letting it all sink in, bit by bit, and didn't want to overload you.

Ianto disagrees with them all. He thinks that the reason he says that – again and again, one after the other, that simple, complicated word – is because…

Well, what would you say?


	9. Bad Idea

**Stimulus: **Bad Ideas

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Ianto (I have such a big thing for those beautiful welsh vowels…)

**Dedication: **To Gareth David-Lloyd (again), and all the vowels he ever has or ever will say.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. If I did, there would be at least three episodes dedicated completely to Janto/welsh vowels. SO good.

**AN: **Excuse me while I melt with the pure fluffiness of my next project, 'Alternative Ending'… it's dedicated completely to the Janto universe and all that that entails. Hope to see you there…? In the meantime, check out 'Better Left Unsaid' by Captain-Ally :)

-x-

Ianto stifled what had to be the twentieth yawn that night. Long nights: that was what Torchwood meant. Long, long nights. That and the assorted sexual harassment of your Captain. Although Ianto suspected it was only Torchwood Three that dealt with that sort of thing.

Succumbing momentarily to the exhaustion, the young Welshman stumbled over to the coffee machine and switched it on. Trying not to nod off, he poured himself a cup and cradled it in his scarred hands, trying to convince himself that going to sleep would be a very bad idea.

Ten minutes later, he was alerted by a sudden _clang _somewhere to his left. Shaking his head experimentally – he had _not _been asleep – he drew his gun and made his way over to his workstation. He frowned at the monitor – he didn't remember switching it off…

"Y'know, when I think the words 'Ianto's weapon' that isn't entirely the first thing that comes to mind."

Ianto grinned, holstering the weapon. "So what do you think of? Do tell."

"I think I can _show _you…"

The Welshman didn't hesitate in downing his coffee and turning to face his captain. "By all means… go ahead."

He'd been right; falling asleep would have been a very, _very _bad idea.


	10. Lost And Found

**Stimulus:** Lost and Found

**Spoilers: **S1E03

**POV: **Ianto (yet again)

**Dedication: **RTD (I love to hate you, and soon you shall be dead… shhhh)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Thanks to all of you who submitted ideas… I think

**AN: **This one made me cry. Not just the episode, but the drabble as well… yes, I am a hormonal teenaged girl. Deal with it.

-x-

This was it. All that was left of what he'd been trying to save. Just a stain on the storage room floor and the battered remains of some twisted machine lying on the stone cold floor.

It hurt to lose her. Of course it had.

It hurt even more to realise that he'd lost her – really _lost _her – a long time ago. The tiny bit of Lisa that he'd been tied to for so long was nothing but a shell.

As Ianto stared at the half human remnants of his lover, he tried to remember an exact point when the _who _that Lisa was had become a _what_.

It hadn't been Lisa he'd tried to save – it had been the love she'd had for him. In this place – in a place where no one really cared, that bond was all that he'd had left.

And now, it was gone.

He wished Jack had shot him like he'd said.

After all… when you had nothing left to lose, what good would living do you?

Jack…

He recalled the older man's face, stained with blood and sweat and tears.

_There's always something to lose._

He just had to find it first.


	11. Not So Bad

**Stimulus: **Pendant/Not so bad

**Spoilers: **S1E… something. The one with the pendant and the alien.

**POV: **Tosh (I really need to do an Owen fic… it's itching me. The plot bunnies will NOT let me sleep tonight, you can be sure of that)

**Dedication: **Whoever invented coffee. I hate the stuff, but I need that caffeine fix to get me through the day. Hey… maybe I'll do a drabble about coffee… oui? Non?

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. DAMN YOU, BBC LAWYERS! DAMN YOU!

**AN: **Just thought I'd tell y'all (all three of you) that I'm starting a new fic called… well, I have no idea, but I'm sure I'll think of something. It shall be fluffy.

-x-

_Don't look at her. Don't look. She'll think you're getting needy. Don't look._

_Why the bloody hell isn't he looking at me? I've been sat here for ages… _

_Tosh looks a little bit off. I wonder if she's ok?_

Tosh started as she heard – not so much _heard _as _felt _– her name woven into someone's thoughts. With a frown, she looked round. Owen was doing medical type stuff on his laptop – pretending to, anyway – while Gwen watched him with wide, doe eyes that were anything but innocent. Jack was in his office, staring at some oblong object that seemed to have no purpose whatsoever but had been in a blowfish's pocket when it had come through the rift. Every now and then he let out barks of laughter – she couldn't bring herself to ask what was so funny. She probably didn't want to know.

_Maybe she's ill._

The tone of the thoughts said _Ianto_. Tosh frowned. Why would he be bothered with her? It seemed that everyone in this office hated her, and they'd barely even spoken since he'd joined… yet when she looked round, there he was, staring at her concernedly over a coffee pot. She blushed when he saw her looking, but there was something in his worried gaze that was so remarkably genuine… she couldn't look away. He gave her a small smile.

"Coffee?"

"Please," she stammered out with a smile. He grinned back.

"Coming right up."

_I wonder if she'll tell me what's up… better not ask. She'll think I'm prying. _

She felt Ianto's eyes on the back of her head as she turned away to gaze unseeingly at the monitor.

_I hope she's alright._

Tosh bit back a sudden grin. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she'd thought, after all. Maybe – just maybe – everything would be ok.


	12. Forget

**Stimulus: **Forget

**Spoilers: **None, I guess. Set during S1, though.

**POV: **Ianto (god I love that man)

**Dedication: **To… Amy, I think, (not that she will read this… she does not approve of my fixation will all things Torchwood, silly girl) for being such an awesome Not-Quite-Sister and being an all round superstar. Can't wait to see your name in lights :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Bare with me… It's a work in progress…

**AN: **Ooh… forgot to tell y'all to check out 'Models and Musicians' or whatever by Rietta. SO good.

-x-

He can't remember.

He can't remember the last time he laughed. He can't recall the last time he went out for a drink with friends. He can't even remember the last time he'd had a conversation with someone other than the man at the pizza place or asking someone if they wanted a coffee.

He can't forget.

He can't forget the way he'd felt himself changing – always _changing_ – from the office boy with the personality and the smile and the girlfriend to the teaboy with the 'sir' and the grimace and the chains. He can't forget that bond between man and machine as he'd tried to scavenge what little of it – _her_ – there was left.

He can't forget the way Jack had looked at him that time in the warehouse as they lay on top of one another by the side of the pterodactyl that he'd since grown to love.

And the best part – the worst part, too – is realising that that's the one thing he doesn't _want _to forget.


	13. Smiles

**Stimulus: **Smiles

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Jack

**Dedication: **To Gernumblies – who is THE most awesome beta in the world, and captain-ally (how awesome are you?! SO many reviews!!)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Unfortunately, RTD still does (the security at BBC were very insistent that I leave and take my chainsaw with me, despite my insistence that it was for the good of fangirlkind).

**AN: **Not sure this one makes sense… it did to me, anywho. It's not very good, is it? Meh. I care not.

-x-

Jack, like many people, once heard and consequently spent a while sniggering at the phrase 'smiles make the world go round'. Yeah, whatever, he'd thought.

This, as it turns out, is a very common misconception. People say _money _makes the world go round. But does it really? Think about it. Would the salesman have managed to sell you that incredibly expensive watch had he not smiled in just the right 'you-know-you-want-this' way? Would the politician have even stepped into that office without that charming 'you-love-me' smile? And – honestly – would anyone have even thought about staying in Torchwood if the wild variety of smiles in the group hadn't convinced them not to?

Gwen has the smile – the 'I'm-not-perfect-but-you-love-me' smile – that reminds you that there's always someone on the other end of the phone willing to jump up and run to the rescue. Tosh has the very sincere 'things-will-be-ok' smile that makes it seem, just for a short while, that everything _will _be ok. Owen, cynical as he is, uses the 'life-sucks-but-it'll-get-better' smile to nudge you into the right state of mind that you need just to try and get out of bed in the morning. And Ianto… Ianto has a smile for everything. There's the 'I'm-here-to-serve' smile that _seems _so professional; then there's the 'happy-to-see-you' smile that sends Jack flying; and, for really _special _occasions, there's the 'I-hate-you-sometimes-but-you're-too-perfect-to-ignore' smile that Jack just _loves_. Not, of course, that he'll ever admit it.

And then, there's the smile that says – so tentative, so hesitant, so perfectly _Ianto_ – 'are we friends?'

Jack answers him with his own, Jack-type grin – not quite the one everyone else sees.

I love you.


	14. Baking

**Stimulus: **Baking

**Spoilers: **None.

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **Laura, who is a celiac (allergic to gluten/wheat); you have made my day a lot more hectic than it would have been, you intolerant-to-gluten-and-made-me-make-gluten-free-cakes-when-I-didn't-have-any-gluten-free-flour-FOOL!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood.

**AN:**

-x-

The siren from the cog-door was only just about enough to drown out the sound of the alarm.

_Beepbeepbeepbeepbeeeeeeeeppp…_

He froze, frowning. Was that… was that what he thought it was? Had Jack _finally _got so sexually frustrated that he'd spontaneously combusted?

Well, he thought, smoothing down his suit jacket… we all knew it was going to happen some day.

And then he thought; is that really the kind of thing I say first thing in the morning when I haven't had any coffee yet? Heaven help us.

And then he ran to the kitchen.

Coughing and spluttering could only just be heard over the alarm and Jack's panicked yells; Ianto's eyes widened. What could have gotten Jack this scared? He rushed in.

There, sitting in the middle of the floor and covered in cake mixture was a very disgruntled looking Jack Harkness. "I don't like baking," the immortal pouted.

And then he laughed. He laughed so hard that tears rolled onto the smoky floor. He laughed so hard, he thought his ribs had cracked. The look on his bosses face had been _priceless_.

He probably shouldn't have laughed.

Then again, he reflected later from the cells, it had been _so _worth it.


	15. Furby

**Stimulus: **Furby

**Spoilers: **None.

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **Everyone who reviewed; TWENTY FIVE!!! WHOOOOOO!! LOVE YOU ALL!!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I did, however, own a Furby, until I accidentally on purpose let my cat at it. Oops?

**AN: **Enjoy, you lovely people :)

-x-

Ianto Jones – despite what some might say – wasn't one to get scared easily.

He'd faced a weevil with nothing but a baseball bat.

He'd tempted a pterodactyl with dark chocolate.

He'd _even _been hit on by a giant mushroom and not batted an eyelid (he was really hoping that one wouldn't show up on his files).

Between dead friends coming back to life again, sports car driving blowfish and unblocking Jack's drains (he really, really didn't want to know), Ianto didn't really get _time _to be scared.

There is an exception to every rule.

When Ianto Jones looks up and sees _Jack Harkness _with that expression on his smug, 'I'm-doing-something-I-probably-shouldn't' face…

That's when he really gets scared.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"I know that face. That face isn't _nothing._ Tell me."

"Nope."

"Jack…"

"Shan't."

"_NOW._"

"Hmmm… I think _not_." 

"Jack, I – what is that? Behind your back?"

"This? This is, um, nothing…"

"Give it to me!"

"No!"

"JACK-"

A brief scuffle followed; Ianto, quicker and generally more agile than the older man, won. He stood, horrified, staring at the small furry thing in his hands. Jack pouted.

"It was supposed to be a birthday gift."

Silence.

"Well? Do you like it?"

"Mama," the Furby cried.

"Um…"


	16. Distance

**Stimulus: **Distance

**Spoilers: **Series one, I suppose

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **My lovely ma, who has not only persuaded dad to get me a Blackberry for my birthday (Wednesday, if you want to know ;) x) but also inspired this fic. Ta!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Today, I'm not caffeinated enough (where's that teaboy when you need him?!) to think of any plots or canivingness, so I guess it won't happen today…

**AN: **I'm stuck, people. To those of you that actually read this, I could really use some help: please, PLEASE, send in a little description of how you'd like to die? Don't ask. Make it dramatic.

-x-

Distance was something he'd had to learn quickly. He had to know how to separate work with Sir from sex with Jack. He had to learn to divide home and family from the Hub and whatever their relationship meant. He couldn't _not _have figured out how to disconnect the idea of beeping, metal cyberwoman – _alien – _from the Lisa that he'd bought a ring; a ring that was still lying in his desk drawer, not so much as glanced at since…

Distance was easy.

Just how long would it take to learn 'close'?


	17. Favourite Colour

**Stimulus: **Favourite colour

**Spoilers: **Random specific spoilers… set after COE

**POV: **Doorman

**Dedication: **gernumblies – you rock. x

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own the recipe to Ianto's coffee – free cup for anyone who reviews?

**AN: **This drabble was inspired by my fic 'One More Day'. Check it out and I'll love you forever :)

-x-

There had been many complaints about the man in apartment 113b (noise levels, ostentatious-ness, yada yada yada), but one that the doorman had frowned at for a short while was that his door colour kept changing. The said complainer also made a statement to the police about it following the man's disappearance, March Third 2019.

_"That moron keeps painting his door. I never catch him at it, because he knows if I did I'd telephone Bernard straight away and have him thrown out before you can say 'ostentatious'. But every time I come home from work; BAM! It's a different colour. Does my head in. _

_  
Started off blue – caught him frowning at it, all angry, like. Said it looked nice. He shouted at me, he did – says 'it's wrong, it's all wrong' and I says 'what's wrong?' and he says – get this – 'it reminds me of the Doctor'. I says 'who?' and he just stares at me and laughs. Walks off, twirling that long militairy coat. I knew right then and there we was going to have a problem with him. _

_Next day it was silver – silver. I ask you! – and he was staring at it when I came home again like… well, all confused, like. Like he don't know whether to be happy with it or not. I says, 'look here, mate, you can't just paint a door silver!' – all polite, right. He nods at me. He says; 'you're right… too tosh.' What's a tosh, I wants to know, but he's gone before I can open me mouth. Twirling that coat again – nearly knocked old Mrs Laity down the stairs. Don't even stop to help._

_Next day it's white – this one I agrees one, and I tells him so when I passes. He don't like it so much – mumbles sommat about some Owen fella. I asks who and he ignores me. Too clean, he says, too doctor-y. I says I thought the doctor was blue. He says 'wrong kind of doctor' and walks off again. Mr Peterson's still got a bruise on his face where that there coat hit him. He bruises easily, see. Don't deserve to be pushed around like that._

_The next day I comes up and I can see him sat there crying on the floor – I thought, ooh heck, and gave him a tissue. Didn't even say thank you – just yells sommat about this Gwen person. I tells him, 'calm down', but he won't. Just runs off again. Door was brown, then._

_ His coat's still on the floor. Didn't come back. If he did, I didn't see him. _

_His door's red, now. He don't talk no more – don't come out at all. Just left this little word on his door: Ianto, it says. Just Ianto. That's his favourite colour, I guess."_


	18. Don't

**Stimulus: **Don't

**Spoilers: **COE (AAAAAARRRRRGGHHHHH)

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **Ally :) She's my favourite stalkee xxxx

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own this drabble, even if I didn't want to. Sob.

**AN: **Have you seen the news? Flood warnings across Britain, it says. That's just me. Why? Because I watched COE again and am busy crying my eyes out. Sniff… Got your tissues? Good. Some really angsty stuff coming up (and I don't just mean this chapter.) Don't worry – I'll balance it out with a big dollop of fluff/crack when I've stopped being weirdly depressive in my ff life… help! I think coffee has melted my fluff brain!

-x-

Don't what?

Don't die?

Don't try to talk?

Don't say goodbye, even though this is the last chance?

Don't leave you?

Don't you want me to realise that you didn't love me, too?

Don't _what_?

Don't say I loved you? Don't you know I did? Don't you want me to say it? Don't let me go without an answer… Jack?

Jack?


	19. FFO REGGUB SAMTSIRHC STI

**Stimulus: **FFO REGGUB. STI SAMTSIRHC

**Spoilers: **None.

**POV: **Yours?

**Dedication: **oohh… I don't know. EVERYONE :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Not even for my birthday. (which was yesterday). Shame…

**AN: **Now officially sixteen!!!!! How exciting :) Enjoy!

-x-

\

They stood and simply stared at the midnight sky, seeing all at once the black curtain of night and the twinkling stars – whole other _worlds_, just out of reach – that dotted it like sequins. Ianto was the one to finally break the silence as he folded his free hand more tightly around the warmth of his coffee cup.

"Do you think it will work?"

Jack grinned, gripping his lover's hand tightly.

"Only one way to find out."

They nodded grimly and each reached out to clasp the switch tighter than they'd ever imagined possible, fusing hope and magic and a tiny bit of science all together.

"One… two… _three!"_

They pulled it down.

Silence.

"Drink?"

"You're buying."

"Cheek!"

"Aww… too tight to dip in to the old pension fund?"

"Less of the old, _teaboy_. And I am NOT tight."

"You walked _right _into that one, sir."

"Did not!"

"Did too."

"Didn't!"

"_Did_."

The bickering pair made their way hand in hand across the Plass, turning their backs on the newest constellations to paint the sky in variations of alternating reds, greens and golds that would baffle the 'experts' for years to come.

FFO REGGUB. SAMTSIRHC STI, the letters said.

Or, as was their intention, if they were read from the _opposite _side…

IT'S CHRISTMAS. BUGGER OFF.


	20. Comms are Down

"Comms are down."

"Really?"

"Just because I'm dead doesn't mean I'm immune to sarcasm, Teaboy."

"Oi! This suit is designer!"

"What's he done now, Yan?"

"He pushed me at the slimey thing, Tosh!"

"Stop pushing him at the slimey thing, Owen."

"Oh! I get it! Choose the Teaboy over me, why don't you?!"

"Serves you right."

"Yeah."

"Shut up, Teaboy – or should I say, _Toyboy?_"

"Oi!"

"Hey! Kids!"

"WHAT?"

"Stop flirting and get back to work. Ianto – join me in my office? I've got a… um… paperwork… coffee… thing…"

"Sounds serious."

"Shut it, Doctor Death."

**Thirty Minutes Later**

"Hey – where's Owen?"

"Being sick."

"Why?!"

"The comms aren't as down as you might think…"


	21. Envelope

**Stimulus: **envelope

**Spoilers: **None – but it's set before the Tosh and Owen died (note to self: murder RTD)

**POV: **Yours?

**Dedication: **Aunty Jane – who drove me bloody insane by giving me a sealed envelope for my birthday two weeks before it! GAH!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. .

**AN: **enjoy, my dearests :) sorry for the delay with this one – I've been so unbelievably uninspired these past few weeks. Plus I've been so busy working on (well, trying to) One More Day – I really need a beta! HELP!!! Oh, and gernumblies? I through the giant mushroom thing in at the end just to annoy you ;)

-x-

He'd been tortured. He'd been shot, stabbed, beaten, buried, thrown, shat on and even thrown to the sharks a couple of times (he still got such a kick out of telling that one)… but this? This was the worst. This topped them all.

The envelope on the table drew his eyes like magnets; or, in a more fitting description, like a corpse attracts the gaze of a murderer. Try as he might, he could not look away.

Ianto had been the one to inflict this torture – on the day that they guessed to be Jack's birthday, gifts and celebration had NOT been permitted (that was the revised version – the first had involved a list of 'acceptable gifts' that a very firm Ianto and a slightly disturbed Owen had insisted the girls did NOT want to see). But then Ianto had never really been one for rules.

"Don't open it 'til I'm back, ok?" The Welshman had warned. "I mean it. If you do, I'll make you choose between coffee and sex." Jack had paled then and pledged his unswerving allegiance to this insane cause.

_That _had been five minutes ago.

Five oh eight, oh nine, ten…

When he reached twenty six, he couldn't take it any more.

It was painstakingly easy to slit open the seal and fold open the paper to find…

_Ianto's stopwatch?_

It was counting upwards – he clicked the red button cautiously, and it stopped. He frowned at it for a moment before returning to the envelope. A card.

_Lot of things you can do with a stopwatch… _it read. Jack grinned. _You're so predictable. I hope you made it past six minutes at least. Don't lie to me. You didn't, did you? I knew it. You have two minutes to get to the roof or I am leaving. Bring wine. And the stopwatch. As I said before, lot of things you can do with a stopwatch…_

_I x_

Jack grinned again and stood. Yes, been tortured. He'd been shot, stabbed, beaten, buried, thrown, shat on and even thrown to the sharks a couple of times – not to mention that giant mushroom…

But it was so, so worth it.


	22. Excuses

**Stimulus: **Excuses

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Ianto's

**Dedication: **This dedication is split two ways: one, to India, my 'lesbian lover' and Zorgagafoolian chum; two, to Caspar, who is fun to bully. Awwwww… poor ghost boy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own the excuses below. VERY proud of them, I might add!

**AN: **So proud of this. I'm posting it to celebrate the fact that I FINALLY UNDERSTAND MEIOSIS! YES!! High fives all the way around :)

-x-

It had started… so simply. So, so simply, even Ianto hadn't seen it coming.

"Hey," Jack had said, grinning in that way that the Welshman now knows not to trust. That innocent way. How could a smile so innocent turn out so… so… wrong? "I'm expecting a call later – I hope you don't mind answering it for me? Just tell 'em I'm busy, 'kay?"

Ok, he'd said, and smiled right back.

Oh, how naïve he'd been!

The call came when he was making coffee. It had been so easy to pick up the phone and say 'sorry, Captain Jack is busy.'

But then they'd phoned again. And again. And _again. _Tens and tens of different people, all with the sole intention of contacting the allusive Captain Jack Harkness.

And there's only so many times you can say the words 'he's busy' in one day without wanting to kill yourself.

"He's at a funeral."

"He's at a party."

"He's babysitting."

"He's married."

"He's an arsehole."

"He's an alien from the planet Zorg."

"He's a witch. Yeah."

"He's a lesbian. Oh, didn't you know? Too bad."

"I'm sorry. I don't speak English."

"He's involved in a private yet passionate affair with Gordon Brown, who enjoys taking it up the – hello? Hello?"

"He only likes sheep."

"He's got a husband who is an alien called Rabagaluga. He's the commander of many Zorgian Battle Ships and is the Zorg champion in all things related to arm wrestling (he has twenty six arms on each side), the most defeats of all things ghostly and has three hundred awards in orgasmicness alone. I'm telling you this for your own safety. No, listen. Ok, you hang up – but when Rabagaluga knocks on your door, don't come running to me."

"Flagaboonada? Jambanoogadoolally. Gaaahnaaa... habadeneesalabah fanataheebah?"

"He's dead."

"He's dead. Poisoned coffee."

"He's dead. Weevil attack. What? What's a Weevil? Um…"

"Pteradon attack. No, not Pterodactyl, Ptera_don_. Extinct? Yeah. Try telling _him _that."

"He's dead. Angry butler."

"Strangled with his own breeches."

And then, Ianto's personal favourite:

"Why don't I just give you his mobile number?"


	23. Human

He watches them as they look on in disgust at his girlfriend – Lisa, _human _ - and then he watches them stare in the exact same way at the cannibals in the Brecon Beacons and then he sits back and wonders why it's so easy for them to believe in alien and yet so impossible for them to believe in human.

Jack is easy. Jack doesn't know any better. He's spent all his lives fraternizing with aliens and watching humans from a distance… he can name all of the royal family members of the planet Fez but ask him how he thinks you're feeling and he's got no clue. Because he'd rather be up there, among then stars… rather emerge himself in make believe worlds full of new life and the most wonderful sights and the right kind of Doctor at his side forevermore than allow himself to remember that he's trapped down there among the old, dead race and the beauty no one takes the time to see. Jack is... wrong. Like someone's laid out the pieces of what makes people human and there's a piece missing. The piece that makes us really, truly human. The part labeled 'death'. Ianto isn't convinced that Jack knows what human _is._

As for Tosh – she doesn't want to believe. Facts and science and math – easy, reliable math – all help to cover up the fact that it's so amazingly _human _to shun those people with the brains and the tact and the creativity so bright it makes them so different that ordinary humans can't accept. Tosh wants to believe in aliens because they gave her a life. She doesn't want to believe in human because they took it away.

Owen can't believe. He who spent so long building up his trust in humans and their science and their medicine only to watch it crumble from under his feet – the walls come crashing down so suddenly it leaves him bleeding in the sun where there is no light, because Katie is gone. The one who made him who he was. Gave him faith and strength and the sullen determination to believe in human no matter how many corpses he has to dissect or how many suicides he ticks off on the little indifferent form that takes up most of what it means to be a Doctor these days. He can't believe because there's a huge gaping hole in his life where 'human' used to be, and 'cynic' plus 'alien' can only fill up so much of it.

Gwen – Gwen wants to believe. So, so much. She looks at aliens and rift victims and labels them all so lovingly with 'human' because she thinks… she thinks it's a solution. Like being human makes everything ok again. Ianto watched her the first few weeks at Torchwood and smiled to himself because she was exactly what they needed – someone to teach them to be human again. But then the smile turned to tears as slowly she, too, forgot. It isn't easy, he supposes, doing what we do. Human fades into the background and the tiny particles of it we're exposed to every day are so repulsive that it's hard not to look at that spaceship and beg them to take you away, too. Alien is so much easier to deal with because the same rules apply to all. They're alien. End of. So easy it's almost wrong… but makes it so hard not to fall into the trap that is the loss of faith in all things human. And when Ianto looks at Gwen, that's where he thinks she's headed. He _knows_.

Ianto's the one who takes the cannibals coffee and tries to save the half-human woman he loved because if he doesn't believe in human… who else will?


	24. Creme Eggs

**Stimulus: **Crème Egg

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Um…

**Dedication: **Laura Pearson, who understands my fingering and licking :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own a crème egg – well, I should say OWNED. It was gone within three seconds of me getting my paws on it. Oh well.

**AN: **Easter time! Tis the time of stuffing your face with chocolate and feeling far too sick… AND THE NEW SERIES OF DW!!! Anyone else ridiculously excited? Give Matt Smith a chance, people. I'm sure he won't be that bad. And if he is… we can just bitch about him until the end of time and nobody will be any wiser :)

-x-

The man cowered under the severity of their eyes, twitching as far away as he could. The nearest one – Gwen, he thought her name was – kept telling him not to worry. Don't worry?! He was trapped in a room with some insane people with god knows what on their minds and guns in their back pockets. Yeah, sure. Don't worry. It'll be fine. NOT.

The first man – tallest of the three and with his arms folded over his chest – strode closer. He didn't like the way that man looked at him. Those eyes were evil eyes. He could tell. And he watched in horror as they got closer… and closer… and closer…

"There's one more thing I need to know," the man told him. He winced away from his booming voice. The man ignored him – if anything, he got even closer. _Oh, god…_

"Are you a fingering and licking type of guy or do you prefer the biting and sucking approach?"

He blinked. Once. Twice.

"Wh-what?"

"Finger and lick versus bite and suck?"

He glanced around and the others to see what they made of this man's insanity. They didn't so much as raise an eyebrow. Clearly they were either used to this madness or… or they were all insane themselves. He gulped.

"Is this some sort of joke?"

It had been a last resort – please, please don't be crazy – and it had fallen to the ground with a crash when the looks on their faces said _no, clearly not._

"Look. It's obviously not a hard question." The first man turned to another, suited man stood behind him. "Ianto?"

"Oh, you know me, sir. Bite and suck."

The tall man moved on, satisfied. "Tosh."

"Finger and lick. It's the only way to do it."

"Owen?"

The other man's response was drowned out by a loud wail. "YOU'RE ALL CRAZY!" The man tied to the chair shrieked, and promptly fainted.

They stared at him in shock before the silence was broken by a rather amused sounding Owen.

"Freak," he chuckled. "So, Gwen… how do _you _eat your Cadburies Crème Eggs?"


	25. Expectations

**Stimulus: **Expectations

**Spoilers: **From the series? None. But there are some unwelcome insights to our favourite captain's personal life…

**POV: **MINE :)

**Dedication: **Rosie – never thought I'd find another hardcore DT fan at my school!! Whooo!! (We have a thing for the Adipose. Hmm… drabble ideas…)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. If I did, then the 456 would be a shriveled mess in a museum right now and I would have a picture of Ianto standing and laughing at it. RTD is such a BITCH! Obviously he has never encountered the full wrath of hormonal teenagers :)

**AN: **I'm thinking of starting a fic called 'The Diary Of Ianto Jones', which is… obviously… Ianto's diary, but set during the time when Jack went away. What do you think? If you have any better title ideas please tell :P

-x-

There are many different types of expectations. One might be, for example, _fulfilled._ This is a phrase which hereby means that an expectation that one might harbor is correct/carried out, like for example the time when Jack went to Micheal Jackson's house and said… well, let's not go into that. The point is, they are presumptions that are right and therefore _fulfilled._

Another one is _unfulfilled_. It is the opposite of what a fulfilled expectation might or might not entail. For example, if Ianto Jones said 'you have _got _to be kidding me' (and he does, frequently), there is a (large. VERY large) chance that this expectation will be _unfulfilled. _We accept that Jack is not 'kidding him' but is in fact deadly serious and we shudder a bit and move on.

At Torchwood there are all sorts of expectations, buzzing around the heads of all the not-quite-innocent people working there as they hurry on with their busy, busy lives. Gwen and Jack expects there to be coffee on the table when they scramble into the main Hub. This expectation, thanks to the undeserved resilience of Ianto Jones, is _fulfilled. _Unfortunately as it mostly takes place at various hours of the morning his reciprocal expectation (for the other two to say 'thank you' instead of 'mmm' or 'grunt' or 'pass the sugar') this presumption is _un_fulfilled. This type of expectation is also the most common when it comes to Torchwood… most unfortunately so, but _so _nonetheless.

For example, when Ianto Jones wandered past that room in the Archives and saw that door with 'DO NOT ENTER' written all over it and the locks and the deadbolt, several expectations leapt to mind. One might have been that the room contained Jack's diary – quarantined thus because… well, use your imagination. (Or rather don't). Another might have been that it contained the skull of another long lost brother/lover that the captain stole away to pine over every night like a combination of Mr and Mrs Macbeth rolled into one.

"Oh, you have _got _to be kidding me."

Fraid not, Ianto m'dear.

"JACK!"

"What?"

"Get a bin bag. NOW."

Another example of an unfulfilled expectation was that of Gwen Cooper the next morning. When she walked into the Hub that day she expected once again for there to be coffee on the table and an ever-so-cheery Jack coming down from his office in the dark with a flustered looking Ianto. She did _not _expect to find a very grumpy looking Jack sat with his arms folded tightly across his chest while a firm yet irritated Ianto stood over him brandishing his finger like a weapon and telling the immortal that it was 'for his own good'.

And when she asked "What's going on?", she _definitely _didn't expect what came next.

"I made him throw out his Barbie dolls."


	26. Kiss

**Stimulus: **Kiss?

**Spoilers: **Cyberwoman (hands up who cried? ME!!! )

**POV: **Ianto's

**Dedication: **Russell T Davies (I hate you), for writing a rather thrilling first on-screen kiss for Ianto and Jack and inspired so many other teens to go 'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEPP!'

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. Sometimes I think RTD is doing a better job than I ever could… but then I take the pills and everything is ok again :)

**AN: **Love you all. You rock. Yes, I'm tired and emotional but I LOVE YOU! Wanted to write an April Fools fic, but I couldn't think of anything funny enough so I thought I'd stick to angst. Lmao, I told captain-ally I was pregnant! Poor gullible fool, she fell for it. LOVE YOU!

-x-

He gasps awake to find his boss' lips on his.

Kissing him.

And the feeling is so familiar, it's unfamiliar. That scary warmth tingling in his chest that he doesn't really know how to deal with – like a teenage boy experiencing his first kiss. A thousand hurriedly silenced fireworks explode in his oddly guilt free stomach.

He gasps again when the lips are removed.

Shushing him.

And the loss is so painfully shocking – shockingly painful – it carves away at the part of his heart devoted to Lisa and replaces it with God knows what.

He gasps once more when the lips form a quickly stifled smile.

Happy?

And the warmth he was feeling multiplies tenfold, gathering to fight the raging war of happy versus Lisa in his gut. One side tells him to run – run from this man who turns people into monsters and back again with the blink of an eyelid. The other is telling him that it never was just a part-time shag, was it? You told yourself it was for the job. For Lisa. It wasn't. You knew that. You know _everything._

And that's why he runs away when Lisa's pain beckons and moulds to his own.

Calling him. Scaring him.

What scares him the most is that he can't make out who he wants to run to the most, and who he's running away from.


	27. So not your colourApril Fools

**Stimulus: **"Wash it off, pink is so not your colour."

**Spoilers: **None.

**POV: **Owen

**Dedication: **gernumblies – ta muchly for the beta once again and the April Fools drabble inspiration. Watch this space, folks – come summer we're having a prompt off. Vote for the winner? (Me, blatantly)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I've got some cyanide and a long rope and a very trustworthy suicide note that says I soon will, though ;) RIP, RTD…

**AN: **I've never had nothing to say before. Think I'll just sit back and enjoy it while it lasts…

-x-

Owen glared over the top of his magazine at Tosh's desk where, much to his discomfort, Tosh and Gwen were giggling. Far too loudly.

This scared him for two reasons; one, women giggling together is never a good sign. The last time he saw that happen, he'd ended up with his pants round his ankles and a very angry old neighbour. He'd had to move out two days later. Since that incident – which became not so affectionately known as 'Pee Day' – he'd avoided at all costs getting involved with any sort of female amusement.

Two; Jack had just joined them. It wasn't so much the fact that Jack was there than who he was dragging along beside him… a very reluctant looking Ianto with _a camera in his hands._

God knew. Actually, even he/she probably didn't know what went on in Jack's head sometimes… and Owen most definitely didn't want to.

"Hey – Owen."

Slowly – oh, so slowly – he put down the magazine and glared into the annoyingly perky eyes of a smirking Jack Harkness.

_Click._

Blinded by the flash on Ianto's camera, Owen blinked. "_WHAT?"_

More giggles.

"Wash it off. Pink is _so _not your colour."

The other three burst into peals of suppressed laughter and stuffed fists in their mouths to drown out the noise. Owen's eyes narrowed, and he reached for the offered hand mirror… and looked straight at his newly dyed neon pink face, complete with the word 'Barbie' tattooed across his forehead.

"SHIT - "

He didn't know exactly what Jack came out with while he was cheerfully beating him to death, but the he really hoped he was mistaken in assuming that mumble had meant 'permanent'.


	28. Liar

**Stimulus: **Liar

**Spoilers: **Countrycide – loved that ep, for some reason. This is set after Ianto has lied in the 'snogging' game and said his last kiss was Lisa when actually he and Jack kissed in the water in the hub… remember? EEE!!

**POV: **Ianto's

**Dedication: **Right… it's a bit of a list. Ready?

Gurugirl; Sannepan; Jooles34; gernumblies; specialfrancine; Homicide-Inside; the darkness revealed; captain-ally; SLC Writers; 2rats4rites; bbmcowgirl; BadWolfTV; tempestuous-rayne; 00torchwood; Algazoth; debussy88; Drop Your Oboe; emie lexie; madmay24; randomness6; vertigoSWAY; yyqh; Canna; Gailea122; Meals10; michellestiles; Pheonix-uk; themistressmalfoy and torchwood and doctor who 4eva for reviewing, alerting or favouriting (or all three). I'd also like to thank everyone at school for inspiring me and donating crème eggs to my perpetual hunger and generally being awesome. I'd like to thank Ally most of all for being awesome… I think I should stop now before I move on to thank my parents and everyone who helped me to get here today because if I do I'll sound like a hysterical actress. What's that you say? Too late? Well then I might as well finish the job with a great big I LOVE YOU! You guys rock :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. If that's the sort of speech they have to make every time it wins an award I'm quite happy not to… phew! Think I'll go lie down…

**AN: **Enjoy :) Oh! Forgot to tell you miserable lot that I've started a LiveJournal account under the name of CaféAime (coffee love… cue 'awwwws'). Technical help needed! Need a background!!!

-x-

"You lied."

Ianto doesn't even have to turn around to know it's Harkness walking behind him. Harkness must have run ahead to catch him up. The realization that his plan to stay as far away from Harkness as he possibly could has failed hits him like a hammer, and he almost groans. He'd walked ahead because if he'd stayed with the group he would have had to hear Tosh complain about missing kit and Owen grumble about grass and Gwen twitter on about nothing and see those looks from Ja- Harkness out of the corner of his eyes that he doesn't really want to try and explain. Betrayal lurks beneath Harkness' eyes and Ianto doesn't want to think about how those looks affect him. So much pain…

"Yeah? Well you didn't exactly set the telling-the-truth bar very high, sir."

"Is that what this is about?" There's no humour in his bark of a laugh, and nothing funny at all about the way Harkness grips his arm so tightly. Ianto still won't look at him. "I'd go back there right now and tell them we kissed if I didn't think you'd be upset."

The tsunami of soul-drenching confusion that this sudden truthfulness brings about makes it absurdly hard to turn and try to ignore the pain throbbing in Harkness' eyes. Ianto focuses instead on the anger that twitches in his robust jaw, instead. Angry Harkness is so much easier to hate. "Firstly – _we _kissed?" He raises a hand to prevent Harkness' protest - or is it so he can pretend he didn't see the way that Harkness' full lips curved downwards? "I don't count that as a kiss. Secondly," he continues, too loudly, to drown out the noise of indignation Harkness emits. "Since when did _you _care what I think?"

For a moment, his heart stops.

For a moment, he looks into Harkness' eyes.

Jack's opening his mouth. "Because – "

"Take the next left."


	29. Sorry

**Stimulus: **"Sorry"

**Spoilers: **End of Series Two

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **Ally (you know her as the brilliant captain-ally, author of the fic Better Left Unsaid that I am so proud of her for!) - I'm really sorry, you gullible fool. And it was either apologise publicly (and very sincerely, of course) or wait for you to get back at me... I thought I'd better do the first one. LOVE YOU!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I may, someday, own the world... but that's a different story :)

**AN: **I feel I must do some apologising for that last drabble - the 'pink' one. Well... less 'apologising' than 'blame pointing'... It's ALL GERNUMBLIES FAULT!!! That's right, her!

-x-

The world, Ianto had reflected so many times the thought was almost painful now, was _always _ending. Always. Being at a wedding or falling in love or it ebing Christmas (especially that one) couldn't stop it. Saving the world on an almost daily basis had been so repetitive that not only could the Torchwood team do it with their hands tied behind their back but also had ingrained into each of them the singular purpose of _we, not I._

Ianto could deal with that. The group thing - the world ends so many times but it's ok because you're not alone. Look at the bigger picture. You're saving the world and the people around you, not yourself. That made it so easy. Painfully so.

But what happens when it's personal?

Who saves us?

When Jack left, the world ended and no one noticed.

That was what hurt the most, Ianto reflected.

He could watch calmly and make coffee as aliens tried time and time again to _take over the world _but when Jack left, the idea that _we not I _was real fell away to reveal the even scarier truth.

You're alone.

Not quite, though, this time. That night when Jack left and Owen and Tosh soon followed, it was just him and Gwen.

Together.

And they sat and they waited and didn't speak until he noticed that the tears on her cheek were just like his and he took her in his arms and told her he was sorry.

Sorry.

Sorry he kissed me, not you.

Sorry you never got to tell him that you loved him.

_Sorry I can't save you._

She told him she was sorry, too.

And the world went on turning, just like always...


	30. Jones Ianto Jones

**Stimulus: **Jones Ianto Jones

**Spoilers: **Fragments. Sort of. LOVED that episode :)

**POV: **Jack

**Dedication: **gernumblies – the fool who agreed to beta The Diary of Ianto Jones for me :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I own these very lovely drabbles, though. Ever so proud :)

**AN: **Thank you for reviewing, everyone! I do love y'all :) Easter hols! YAY!!! I am not impressed by the lack of interest in my LiveJournal page, though. Lol :P I think you should all check out Senket. She's awesome :)

-x-

Jones Ianto Jones: gorgeous, liked his coat, good with a cricket bat (he liked that in a man), makes _excellent _coffee, beautiful accent…

…knows a little bit too much about Weevils.

He can tell already he's going to hire him. He's perfect: informed, smart, hot – and then, just as an added bonus, he's got that extra special 'broken' feel to him that Jack always seems to go for.

As he sits there and stares like an idiot at the Torchwood One picture of the man who prowls through the forefront of Jack's mind every time he closes his eyes now. He tries not to wonder why that is, or what made him that way. He chooses instead to notice that red is _so _Ianto's colour. _Do you think I could get him to wear one of those cute UNIT caps? And what the hell do I make his job title?! Professional hot stuff isn't likely to go down well with the superiors._

"He's cute." He slams the laptop shut. It's Tosh. He watches the red flush creep across her cheeks and winces internally. Fragile, he reminds himself. _She's fragile._

"Oh, I know it." He winks, pleased when she smiles and the embarrassment fades. He watches her go to set up and inspiration strikes.

"Tosh, you know you said we should get someone to archive all the crap we have lying around here?"

"And the coffee. Don't forget the coffee. Ours is crap and Starbucks is expensive."

Bingo.


	31. Pink: the aftermath

**Stimulus: **Pink, again!

**Spoilers: **None – linking in with my 'Pink' fic (which I am blaming Caroline for)

**POV: **Owen – poor, mistreated Owen…

**Dedication: **This dedication is to two very special (or crazy?) people. You see, these two very special (or crazy) people not only put up with me but actually… they're awesome, too :) gernumblies (Caroline); you rock for beta-ing and answering my damn fool questions! And Ally – captain-ally – you are an awesome writer and shipper of all things cute and gay and also answered my questions and told me of koala wee :) Ahaa… looking forward to seeing our names in lights together! Love ya m'dears xxx

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do, however, own a contract signed in Weevil blood that Ianto is MINE. ALL MINE!

**AN: **Watch this space, people – in two years I will have stopped writing amazingly funny drabbles like this one and Ally and I will have our names in lights and will be hanging out with Gareth David Lloyd. Yeah, you heard me.

-x-

It was Owen Harper's day off.

His phone was ringing.

Owen Harper turned over in bed to glare at his phone.

It didn't stop ringing.

Owen Harper turned over in bed and put his pillow over his head.

It _still _didn't stop ringing.

Owen Harper threw books and pillows and even a plate at his phone.

It stopped ringing.

Owen Harper settled down with a happy sigh and closed his eyes to get some –

His phone started ringing.

Owen Harper picked up the phone with a roar and hissed into the phone.

"Listen to me, _Harkness_. It wasn't funny when you painted me pink. It wasn't funny when I had to wear a balaclava for six straight weeks and old ladies hit me on the head with their handbags because they thought I was a robber. It wasn't funny when you changed my ringtone to the Barbie Girl song and gay guys started chatting me up on the bus. It wasn't funny when you put my white shirts in with red ones and it CERTAINLY ISN'T FUNNY TO RING ME ON MY DAY OFF!"

Silence.

"Got that, you big gay twat?"

"I think I've got the wrong number… it's Stacy, I met Owen in a bar last night and he gave me his number… is he there, by any chance?"


	32. Duck

**Stimulus: **Duck

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **To… Tom Price (pause for Ally to stop squealing) whose Twitter page is quite funny, actually :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I'm far too busy being bad at art to do such things (be sensitive, ladies, for what follows is a real event plucked straight from the 'Horrific Memories' box )

**AN: **I've been very busy with convincing my parents to let me go to Hub 5/obsessing over going to Hub 5 with Ally (when I should be revising) to update this although I thought I should do it soon or it might turn to mould. So here it is, straight from the traumatized bit of me that will never again attempt any type of art :)

-x-

"So what do you think?"

They stared in horror at the wire structure on the conference table. It, like its proud owner, was splattered 'artistically' with blobs of brown, black and white paint that Ianto was inwardly wincing over the thought of having to clean up and hoping to high heaven that it wasn't the alien equivalent of permenant paint that he'd filed where he hoped Jack would never find it (he'd have to think these things through more clearly in the future).

Jack cleared his throat in eager anticipation of a glorified response.

"Very nice," Tosh answered meekly, sinking into a chair as far away from the monstrocity as was possible. Jack's iron glare turned to Owen, who grumbled his approval with wide eyes and retreated behind Tosh. Gwen was next up.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, very… nice. It's amazing how you've managed to capture the, um, essence of the Weevil so well…"

The door slammed horribly as Jack stormed out. Ianto sighed and three pairs of tired eyes locked on Gwen, who squirmed under their accusatory gazes. "What did I say?"

Ianto sighed again as he pushed himself up and went to follow Jack. "Very nice Weevil, Jack. Essence of the Weevil, Jack… I'm not going to see the end of this one for weeks."

Gwen frowned at the wire Thing on the table top. "If it's not a Weevil, then what the hell is that thing?"

It was Ianto who answered, making a mental note to retcon Jack and switch Gwen onto decaf for a week. "It's meant to be a duck."


	33. Teacher

**Stimulus: **Teacher

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **Mr Sherlock, who will hopefully never read this because I'm sure it is rife with historical inaccuracies.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do own a hell of a lot of (unfinished) history questions that are glaring at me from my desk, though. Gah.

**AN: **School tomorrow… this was inspired by the best teacher ever, Mr Sherlock, who has managed to

_-x-_

_Sometimes, Ianto thinks Jack would have made a great teacher._

"…and there was this big debate over whether the assassination was a big cover up by the American Government or whether, y'know, it was who they said it was."

"Lee Harvey Oswold," Gwen clarified.

"Right. Personally from where I was sitting on the grassy knoll it didn't look like the shot was coming from the book depository at all. Magic bullet indeed."

"You were there?" Ianto frowned.

"Oh, yeah. I was with the FBI that day. The Doctor had said, but I just wanted to see if he was telling the truth or not." Jack sighed wistfully and eyed Ianto with a thoughtful look that made him want to grin and run away screaming _oh God no _at the same time. "Boy, I miss JFK…"

_Yes, Jack would have been a good teacher._

"Boy, I miss JFK…"

_But then again…_

"He had a real sensitive point right there – just behind his right ear. You shoulda seen Jackie's face when I pointed it out." He paused thoughtfully once more. "Kinda like you, Ianto."

The horrified silence was broken only when, thank god, a rift alert came in. Ianto had never been quite so pleased to see Blowfish.

_Maybe not._


	34. TWLOHA

**Stimulus: **TWLOHA

**Spoilers: **Just after Cyberwoman

**POV: **Yours?

**Dedication: **Becky and Hannah and Rosanna and Pip and all the other lovely people who wrote love on my arms.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Torchwood. I do own a fantastic set of friends who, today, covered my arms with the word 'love'.

**AN: **Today is a very special day, ladies. Today is TWLOHA day. You'll find out what it is in a minute but if you feel I haven't described it satisfactorily I'm putting a link on my page. I hope that tonight you will be inspired to grab a pen, a friend and some hope and scrawl the word 'love' on their arms.

-x-

Gwen announces quite cheerfully on that day that it was TWLOHA day and promptly pulls out a marker pen and insist that they present her with their arms.

The reply to this is as follows.

Huh?

TWLOHA day – more commonly known as To Write Love On Her Arms day, Ianto explains – was first started when a young, depressed addict by the name of Renee tried to kill herself by carving the words 'Fuck Up' into her arm. Her friends took her in when the treatment center would not. They kissed the scars and took away the razor and then, with hope in their minds and prayers in their hearts, they wrote love on her arms.

Tosh holds out her arms with a tear on her face.

Owen is next.

Then Jack.

No one notices the way Ianto withdraws with quiet words of ink poisoning and do they know how bad that was for them?

That night Jack finds the scars that decorate Ianto's wrists. He kisses them all hello and in the morning he will kiss them all goodbye. And when Ianto wakes up with an empty bed and the word 'love' written in Jack's messy scrawl across his arm, he will smile.


	35. Adipose Man

**Stimulus: **I could say, but only captainally would know what I was talking about… so I won't.

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **…um…

**Dedication: **To Ally, the only reason this (and Ianto Jones' Diary – shameless self publicity, whoo) is being updated. Awesome weekend with freaks, geeks and sniffs galore!

For those of you who don't know, myself and the lovely captainally recently attended THE geekiest event ever: Hub 5. (yes, it is a Torchwood convention, and yes, I did get a) a piggyback from GDL and b) sniffed by Kai Owen).

**Disclaimer: **Oh, please. We all know this all will belong to us one day.

**AN: **I'm back. Mwahahah!

-x-

There were three phrases Ianto Jones had learnt to fear morbidly since his acceptance into Torchwood Cardiff. The first, inevitably, was "clean up". The second – for reasons none but he and Jack knew, and despite much blackmailing, bribery and bullying did not appear to be sharing any time soon – was "cardigan lady".

The third?

"Ianto…"

A sigh. "What, Jack?"

"Please - "

"No, Jack."

"But - "

"No, Jack!"

A pause.

"Ianto…"

"Jack."

"Look."

With a heavy sigh and a resignation to the knowledge that this was almost definitely not going to go his way, the coffee-boy-come-wedding-fairy tore his eyes from the report he was finishing to look into the puppy-dog eyes of his boss. Jack gestured to the pocket of his military jacket. Obligingly, Ianto looked; there, hidden between thick folds of navy blue, the tiny white blob waved happily to the less-than enthusiastic Ianto. He sighed again. Ianto looked from the adipose to Jack and prepared himself for the four words he had grown to fear so much.

"Can I keep it?"


	36. Hold It

**Stimulus: **captainally's review (it was too hilarious to ignore)

**Spoilers: **None

**POV: **Ianto

**Dedication: **To adipose man... also Mark, father of my future children ;)

-x-

"Ianto."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Hold it."

"Not now, Jack."

"Please?"

"I'm_ busy_, Jack."

"Iantooooo... please hold it."

"No!"

"I'll feed Janet for a week."

"No, you won't."

"I will. I promise."

"Fine! Fine!"

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"You're so - ugh! What's THAT? What's it doing?"

"Calm down! It's supposed to do that! ...I think..."

"What the HELL is this stuff? God, this is disgusting!"

"I'm - it's never done that before! Ianto! Ianto, come back! Ianto?"

That, thought Ianto as he marched off to wash his hands, was the last time he agreed to touch Jack's adipose.


End file.
